


Stay

by shyday



Category: Necessary Roughness
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 20:04:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1870635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyday/pseuds/shyday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Is he stalking her? Surely not, though with the mysterious Mister Careles she’s not entirely positive."  Nico shows up unexpectedly in the middle of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Here I am again, bringing poor Nico more plotless pain. (I really wish someone else would Whump on him for a while, so I can stop. Please please please?) This was inspired in part by ponyperson’s “Two Men and a Lady,” in so much that it made me want to do my own take on Nico showing up at Dani’s house in the middle of the night. I recommend you go read that one – it’s far more entertaining than this.
> 
> As always, I make no money because they don’t belong to me. If they did, we’d get to see all the goodness that we know was coming in Season 4. And, clearly, Nico Careles would be a lot more broken.

Stay  
Nicole Clevenger (June 2014)

**

She isn’t sure what woke her. Laying in her bed in the dark, Dani tries to decide what it was and whether or not it’s worth getting up for.

A look to the nightstand clock tells her it’s just after three AM.

She stares at a ceiling she can’t see and waits for something to happen. Sleep stretches its long fingers back around her, pulling her again into the haziness of dream. Her body begins to relax, her eyelids sliding closed…

And the noise comes again, startling her back awake. It sounded like it came from outside.

Her heart is beating faster now, adrenaline rushing her into alertness. Dani gropes a hand under her bed, feeling for the baseball bat she’s kept there since Ray left, her eyes on her bedroom door as if she expects an invasion at any moment. The room is cold when she slips out from under the covers. 

Weapon in hand, Dani slowly opens her door and moves out into the hallway. Her eyes automatically shift to her children’s rooms, grateful that they’re with their dad. The noise is probably nothing. A stray cat. But still she feels better knowing that it’s only herself she may have to defend. She peers over the railing before she starts down the stairs, but she can see nothing in the shadows. There’s no hint of movement down there, though. 

Dani chokes the bat into a more defensive hold and heads down into the darkness.

Her bare foot is on the bottom step when there’s a crash outside the back door. Her head snaps quickly in that direction, but her body has reduced its speed to a cautious crawl. Dani creeps toward the door, one foot tentatively in front of the other. Her breath sounds loud in her ears.

She flips the outside light on as soon as she reaches it, hoping to scare whatever it is away. It’s a long moment before she can convince herself to lift the edge of the thin curtain covering her back door window and peer out. When she does, the air rushes from her in a relieved escape; the bat falls to her side, the tip bouncing off her kitchen floor. 

Damn raccoons have been in the trash again.

Dani laughs shakily at herself, leaning on the wall beside the door. Sometimes, she admits to no one, it’s nice to have someone else around. She tries not to think about what she would’ve done if it had been a _person_ outside. No point. She does, after all, want to get back to sleep sometime tonight.

But first, she supposes she should clean up. She sets the wooden bat on the kitchen table, unlocks the back door and lets herself outside. Dani shivers when the night air brushes over her bare shoulders; the cotton shorts and tank she’s wearing, though perfectly reasonable in her comfortably heated house, are doing her no favors out here. She thinks about running back upstairs to get her robe, but immediately dismisses the idea. She won’t be out here long.

The lid of her plastic trash can is yawning open, the bag on top suffering the indignity of a roughly clawed hole. Dani stoops awkwardly, grabbing the few discarded pieces of trash scattered on the ground and shoving them back into the bin. Closing the lid, she looks around her for something to hold it down; she knows from experience that her planters, if used, are likely to be smashed by morning. She rubs at her chilled arms, looking around her feet. Where’s a giant rock when you need one?

After a few more minutes the fatigue comes inching back; she straightens up, decides she doesn’t really care. Let them have it if they want it so badly. She’ll deal with the potential mess in the morning. She starts to go back inside, her hand halted on the door handle, when a car parked at the curb grabs her attention. She can’t see the driver’s seat from this angle, the big tree at the edge of her lawn positioned just perfectly to block it from view. But it’s the familiarity of the front end that catches her notice, that makes her take a second look. 

Is that Nico’s sedan?

It certainly looks similar, at least from here and in the dark. But why would Nico be here at three in the morning? Is there something going on with the Hawks she hasn’t been told about? Some threat? Is he stalking her? Surely not, though with the mysterious Mister Careles she’s not entirely positive. 

Trash forgotten, Dani crosses her lawn to find out.

The damp grass is cold on her bare feet, the long blades pushing their way up between her toes. She hugs herself more tightly against the chill, making a mental note to have Ray Jay mow sometime next week when he’s home. Dani wonders at Nico’s choice of parking spaces - she’s almost across the yard now and the tree is still blocking her view. If he is watching her, how can he possibly see from there? It’s probably not even his car, she decides. 

She really should be back in her bed. Her toes find the edge of the sidewalk as she finally clears the tree. 

There’s someone slumped over the steering wheel in the car.

The lurch in her stomach tells her it’s Nico long before her brain catches up. By then she’s already around to the driver’s side door, tiny chips of loose gravel biting cold into her tender feet. The window’s all the way down; he’s got an arm slung up over the wheel, his forehead heavy on his coat sleeve. Not moving. Drunk? Unconscious? She can’t see any of his face.

She forces her voice calm and slow as she looks him over. “Nico?” Nothing. She swallows against the lump in her throat. “Nico, it’s Dani…”

His head twitches, gradually lifts from its pillow. He blinks without focus. “Dani?” His confusion rattles her. His eyes slip from her to the yard to the house, grounding himself. “Ah,” he breathes, his surroundings apparently giving him the answer he needs.

But no answers for her. She fights back the urge to reach in the car and shake him, to demand to be told what’s going on. The unfamiliarity of this moment gnaws at her, chews at nerves whispering that all is not well. The lateness of the night only adds to the foreboding tingle. Nico drags a hand over his face, his head falling back against the seat rest. 

“What’s going on?” she asks him. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he tells her. Dani feels the word would carry more weight if he’d opened his eyes to say it. “I was in the area, needed to stop. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

It’s the _needed_ that gets her, her attention reaching groping fingers to snag it for her as it goes casually by. “You didn’t wake me,” she says, studying him for clues. Then, carefully: “Have you been drinking?”

His laugh is a puff of exhale; his eyes are still closed. “No.”

“Okay, then…” Her voice wanders off, her gaze turning to the empty silent street. A lone bird chirps at the coming dawn. People will be getting up soon. Dani shivers, a fresh wave of goosebumps running up her bare legs. “Look, at least come in the house. It’s freezing out here, and I’m not exactly dressed for it. Plus I don’t need my neighbors calling the police to report an unconscious man practically in my driveway.”

His eyes open now, sliding in her direction with barely a move of his head. They track lazily over her exposed skin, and Dani shivers for an entirely new reason. She quickly pushes that away, waits until his look comes back up to meet hers. She wants him to be clear that she won’t take no for an answer. “Well? Come on.”

His reactions are too slow, like a man still half asleep. His attention drifts away from her, his eyes falling to the steering wheel as he seems to consider his options. She needs to get him inside, into better light, to figure out what’s going on. She wonders if he’s taken something; she wonders if he’s been hit on the head. Her own thoughts are swirling a vortex in her brain, warring with her purposeful pretension of calm. 

“Nico?” she tries again.

Long minutes later he finally nods, lifts his head from the seat. Dani steps back as he opens the car door, biting her lip when it takes an obvious effort for Nico to pull himself out. He stops once upright, leaning his weight on the top of the car and the door, breathing roughly. His eyes are on the ground when he quietly asks, “You have a first-aid kit, I assume?”

It shakes her, even though it’s been clear from the start that there’s something wrong. But he’s out of the car now, at least, and she’s wary of saying anything that might make him balk. So she injects as much lightness into her voice as she’s able. “Of course. I’m a mother.”

Her instincts have served her well; this earns her another nod, and Nico pushes himself up straight, closing the car door. He says nothing, his face a granite mask, but he’s apparently waiting for her to lead the way. And so she does, retracing her steps across the wet grass, through the quiet of the lingering night. Despite her slow pace, Nico follows behind; she consciously lets him be, refusing to let herself turn every breath to check on his progress. She feels like she’s trying to coax a stray animal in out of the cold.

Dani opens her back door and lets them inside, the warmth of her home wrapping itself around her numbing skin. She turns to face him in the bright light of her kitchen, only to find that he looks much worse than he did in the dark of the car. He’s holding his right arm stiffly against his side, his left bracing himself up with a hard grip on one of her chairs. There’s the beginnings of a bruise on the side of his jaw and a gaping tear in the shoulder seam of his coat. His dark eyes stand out sharply against the paleness of his skin.

His arm is trembling under his weight when she rests her hand lightly on his bicep. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me what’s going on?”

Nico shakes his head, a few strands of hair falling loose to brush against his forehead. “No, I just need to take care of something, then I’ll go. I don’t want to wake the kids.” He grunts as he pushes off the chair. “First-aid kit?”

The brush-off annoys her; it’s too late to be playing twenty questions. “Under the sink in the bathroom,” she says a little curtly, waving her arm in the direction of the downstairs room. If he notices the shift in her mood, he doesn’t comment. She watches him leave, a little unsure of what to do with herself now. She goes upstairs, puts on her soft grey robe; comes back down and makes sure the door is locked. Thinks about making tea. Finally she sits down in the chair he was leaning on, waiting to corner him for answers when he comes back.

Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen.

She knows, because she’s watching the clock. The way you do when you’re aware you should be sleeping, your brain calculating and recalculating how much time you still have left to rest before morning. She’s watching the time tick away, wondering how long this is going to take. Wondering what it is that he’s doing in there.

When fifteen begins inching closer to twenty, she decides to go check on him. Dani knocks on the bathroom door, worry rising rapidly when there’s no immediate answer. She tries again; same lack of response. Fortunately, the knob turns easily under her hand when she goes to open it. “Nico? I’m coming in,” she says unnecessarily, as she swings the door carefully ajar.

The first-aid kit is open on the counter, various components scattered around it. Nico’s slumped on the tile between the cabinets and the far wall, the side of his face pressing against the wood drawers.

And there’s the blood.

He’s managed to get his shirt unbuttoned, but the dark red slick of his right side clings stubbornly to the rough white of the fabric, spreading across the material and sticking it to his skin. Dani grabs a nearby hand towel without thinking, goes down on her knees beside him. He flinches when she peels away his ruined shirt and presses the cloth to his side, but it does seem to rouse him. He looks at her now, bringing a hand up to hold the towel himself. “Not as bad as it looks,” he mumbles.

A nervous laugh bubbles up unbidden at this. “Really? Then why are you on the floor?”

He shifts, immediately preparing to get up. “Dizzy. I’m fine.” Using the counter top, he drags himself to his feet; Dani gets up more quickly, grabs his arm when he sways into the marble. There’s blood smeared over his hand, drying between his long fingers. “I’ll deal with this,” he tells her, dark eyes meeting hers in the mirror. 

It’s a clear sign for her to go, but Dani refuses to budge. He’s got a white-knuckled hold on the edge of the counter, blood already seeping through the ruined towel at his side. If possible he looks even paler in the light of her bathroom, sweat beading along his hairline. But there’s no question of his desire to get her out of the room to handle the situation on his own.

Too bad she has no intention of doing that. “Sorry, but it’s _my_ bathroom you’re bleeding all over in the middle of the night. I think that gives me the right to stay.”

A fleeting scowl brushes his features. “If you’ll recall, I had no intention of coming in here in the first place.”

Dani nods at his reflection, uncowed. “And you can explain all about why that is once you’re no longer bleeding. Unless you’d rather I just call an ambulance?”

The sharp glare he gives her in the mirror is not an expression Nico has ever directed her way, and it catches the breath in her throat. “I’ll be gone before they get here,” he growls lowly, eyes narrowed. It’s not a threat, but a promise.

She resists the urge to take a step back, not there’s much of anywhere for her to go. Instead she takes a breath, deliberately meeting his eyes again. “Fine. Then sit down and we’ll figure out what we need to do.” She points at the closed toilet lid, refusing to look away from him. Dani’s an expert at stubborn, too.

Nico opens his mouth like he intends to argue, but something in her reflected face makes him decide that it isn’t worth it. His shoulders sag; he drops his gaze, moves stiffly to sit where instructed. A hiss of pain escapes as he lowers himself down; Dani busies herself with a quick inventory of her first-aid supplies and pretends not to hear. She gives him a moment before she turns to him. 

“So are you going to tell me what happened?” she asks, taking the bloody towel from him and throwing it in the sink. She purposely does not look up at him, focusing instead on gently cleaning some of the blood from the wound. His entire body flinches minutely each time she touches the skin around the gash in his side; Dani pretends not to notice this either. When he doesn’t answer, she risks a glance upward. Nico’s watching her work, his mouth set in a thin line. He doesn’t meet her eyes.

“Broke up an argument between Jackson and his brother,” he says tightly.

It doesn’t take her long to run through her mental roster of Hawks players and come up with the face to match this name. “Ronnie?”

“Yeah.” It comes out as a grunt as she hits a particularly sensitive spot.

Dani’s yet to have any personal dealings with Ronnie Jackson, but she’s made it a point to at least be aware of all the players on the team. Her main recollections of the man are of a quiet figure hanging in the background of team meetings, of a big kid with a charming smile. He’s always been polite to her, but that’s about all the insight her memories can offer. 

The uncovered wound is still bleeding, though thankfully it doesn’t look quite as bad now that it’s been cleaned up. The gash stretches above his hipbone, six inches of red stark against his skin. Dani’s loathe to push any buttons, but she’s not a medical doctor. “Nico…” she starts carefully, “… I think this might need stitches.”

Nico shakes his head, adamant in this refusal. “No hospital. Just bandage it up and I’ll get out of here.”

Lack of sleep fuels a surge of anger; she suddenly has no patience for this tough guy act. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She grabs a gauze pad, ripping the packaging open with more force than necessary. “I’ll drive. We’ll be done before you know it.”

His hand comes up to cover hers where she presses the bandage to his side. “Dani, no.” Something new in his voice causes her to look up at him again for an explanation. “Hospitals are required to report gunshot wounds to the police. The team doesn’t need that.”

This new information slaps her upside the head. Her jaw drops. “ _Gunshot_ wounds? He _shot_ you?”

Nico vaguely waves away the horror in her question, his head falling back to rest in the corner where the two walls behind him meet. Dani can see that whatever energy that was keeping him going is rapidly slipping away. She wonders how much blood he’s lost. “Accident,” he says, eyes closed. “Didn’t mean for the gun to go off.”

“Oh, I guess that makes it all right then.” The corner of his mouth quirks upward at this, but Dani doesn’t see anything amusing about the situation. Her fingers are trembling as she tapes the bandage down. “Nico, this is serious. Why does Ronnie have a gun in the first place? Does he still have it? I need to go talk to him –“

She gets to her feet; Nico grabs her wrist. His eyes are hooded, pain and exhaustion having their way. “I’ve got the gun,” he tells her quietly. “And if he doesn’t come talk to you tomorrow on his own, he knows I’ll be dragging him in. Kid’s terrified – I think you’ll be seeing him.” 

His fingers are warm on her skin as she weighs this information. Nico’s looking at her like he’s still uncertain about her next move if he lets her go; she wonders if he’d actually have the strength to stop her if she decides to leave. His eyes bore into her, demanding an assurance that she’ll stay.

“I can appreciate that you’re looking out for the team, Nico,” she says carefully, “but right now I’m worried about _you_. I still think –“

“Been shot before,” he grinds out through clenched teeth as he lets her go to push himself up. He pauses, head hanging low as the counter takes his weight. “Trust me, this is nothing. I’ll be fine.”

“Just because you keep saying it doesn’t make it true.”

He looks up at her reflection again, but doesn’t respond. Truly, he appears ready to collapse. With his ruined shirt hanging open, Dani can see the way his stomach muscles tense with every shallow breath. She doesn’t doubt this man is well accustomed to taking care of himself. She just wonders when the last time was that he let anyone else try to do it for him.

“I should go,” he finally says. “It’s late.”

“It is,” she agrees. “Which is why you’re staying here.” A flash of something like surprise crosses his mirrored features, but it’s gone before she can be sure. “You can’t drive anywhere like this,” she presses on, taking advantage of the silence while she controls it, “and there’s no point to sleeping in your car. I’ll make up the guest bedroom, and we can both get a couple of hours of rest before morning.”

She thinks he’s considering this; she’s actually turning to go get started when he shakes his head. “No, I’ve brought you enough trouble already. I’ll –“

“Dammit, Nico!” It’s louder than she meant it to be in this small space, but she’s got his attention. “I’m tired, I’m cranky, and we have a meeting at eight AM. You’re here. You’re staying.”

This time his expression is not in doubt: he’s angry. “You think you can keep me here?” It’s almost a snarl.

They stare each other down in the mirror. Eventually Dani sighs, her irritation dissolving into her own fatigue. She’s backed him into a corner, the wrong way to go about all of this, and his frustration is causing him to lash out. She understands; she should have expected it. She needs a different approach. So she softens her tone, lowers her voice. “No, I don’t. But I really don’t think you should be leaving. So I’m _asking_. Stay?”

This loosens some of the tension in his posture, smoothes some of the sharpness from his eyes. Without the anger, he just looks drained. Dani wonders what time it is; she’s tired of having a conversation with a mirror. When he doesn’t argue any further, she decides to take his silence for acquiescence. “I’ll go get things ready. If you take off that shirt, I’ll throw it in the wash with the towels – I doubt it’s salvageable, but at least it’ll stop you from trailing blood throughout my house.”

He offers no response to this either, just continues to stand there, eyes on her reflection. She debates volunteering to help him with this task, but she gets the feeling she’s already seen him more vulnerable than he’s at all comfortable with. It would probably be best if she gives him some space.

The yawn sneaks up on her as she turns to leave; she almost misses his words because they’re pitched so low. “Couch is fine,” he tells the back of her head. “Don’t go to any more effort.”

Dani pauses, thinks about arguing the point. But he’s agreed to stay, and she decides it’s probably best to take that small victory. “Shirt,” she says tiredly, leaving him leaning there on the counter. “I’ll go get some blankets.”

It’s past four now, the hallway clock tells her, and the bathroom door is still mostly closed when she passes it by with her armful of bedding. She gives him a few extra minutes while she makes up the couch, but when she catches herself absently fluffing the pillow she’s brought him, she decides it’s definitely past time for bed. She can hear the water running in the sink, and, for a brief moment, all she can see is remembered blood. Dani takes a breath to steady herself. Her face is composed when Nico comes out of the bathroom.

She doesn’t expect the flush of heat that runs through her at this first sight of his shirtless body, failed to consider this aspect in all that’s going on. Her eyes jump dangerously over a myriad of tiny scars, over arm muscles and the thin trail of hair leading down into his waistband, finally landing safely on the ruined shirt wadded in his fist. She frantically hopes she’s not blushing, unprepared for this new image of him. She tells herself to stop acting like a teenager. She has to force herself to meet his eyes.

But any notice of this on his part seems lost in his exhaustion, and she’s able to get herself back under control and to the situation at hand. Dani’s nothing but professional when she reaches out to take the destroyed lump of fabric from him. Her fingers brush the back of his hand; he blinks at her, wavering slightly in the dim light of her living room. She’s never seen him so unfocused, so tired.

“Don’t bother,” he murmurs as she takes the shirt from him. “Just throw it away.” He slings his coat over the arm of the couch, wincing as he carefully sits down. “You should sleep,” he tells her carpet, head hanging low.

“So should you.” Her gaze travels over the tendons in his neck, the lines of his bare shoulders. 

“Aren’t you worried about what your children might think when they find me down here?”

This isn’t the first time tonight he’s mentioned a concern for her children, and Dani appreciates that he’s thinking of them. But she wonders if he isn’t still trying to grope for an excuse not to stay. “They’re with their father,” she says. “They won’t be back until tomorrow night.”

He nods without lifting his head, apparently unable to do much else. Dani ducks into the kitchen with the bloody shirt, finds a plastic grocery bag to put it in. When she returns she finds him already lying down, exhaustion winning the argument at last. “Can I get you anything?”

Dark hair brushing against the white pillow case with a weak shake of his head. “Done enough,” he mumbles, sleep fighting hard to claim him. “Go back to bed.”

At the moment, Dani wants nothing more. “Get some rest,” she tells him, turning to head for the stairs. 

She doesn’t think she imagines the whispered “thank you” that follows her up to her room.

**

Morning comes far too quickly; she’s just closed her eyes when the beeping of her alarm drags her back out of sleep. Dani moans into her pillow, reaching reflexively for the snooze button. But the events of hours before flood themselves into her sleepy brain, reminding her that this is no ordinary morning of routine. She’s got a house guest to deal with downstairs.

She pulls her robe over her shoulders. The smell of coffee hits her before she’s half way down the stairs, the ever faithful machine doing its automatic duty. Nico doesn’t stir as she creeps past into the kitchen, the early light slowly inching dim tendrils across the floor. She pours herself a cup, taking a moment to stand there with it in her hands, the rich aroma filling her head to clear out a few of the cobwebs. But it’s too hot when she takes the first sip, and she scowls at the numbness now spreading over the tip of her burnt tongue.

It’s going to be a long day.

She wants to leave him to sleep, but she knows he’s going to have to go home before heading to the meeting at the Hawks’ offices. She isn’t entirely clear on where it is that he lives, but it’s already six-thirty and she can’t imagine that he’s going to be moving any more quickly than she is. So she pours him a cup of coffee to match her own, and carries them both out to the living room.

He’s got his back to her, legs bent to fit on the too-short sofa. The blanket covering him has slipped to the floor sometime in the last few hours, leaving his upper body exposed to the air. The bandage on his side stands out against the color of his skin, his broad shoulders rising and falling with each breath. Her eyes trace over a short jagged scar resting far too close to his spine.

But what she’d hoped is a restful sleep seems to be anything but. This close she can see the unnatural tension in his body, the way his hand spasms in and out of a tight fist against the cushions. A frown etching itself deep into what should be peaceful features. Lips moving soundlessly and quickly, quivering with inaudible words.

She sets the cups down on the low coffee table, intending to wake him from the nightmare. Because it’s clear this is not a happy dream. “Nico?” she calls softly, hoping to rouse him. But exhaustion and pain have pulled him well below the level of his customary alertness. He doesn’t react at all to the sound of her voice.

“… out… move…” he mumbles, pieces of sentences surfacing to sound. It’s urgent, almost frantic. She can’t just stand here and watch this, can’t leave him to these demons she knows nothing about. Tentatively she reaches out. Her fingers brush his shoulder.

And the relative peace of her morning explodes.

It happens in a matter of seconds, a sequence of tiny events not recognized until it’s over. Soldier reflexes unbidden by consciousness, a hand locking around her wrist and pulling her off balance. Her hip hits the table on her way down, and the shattering of ceramic fills the room. Her own reflexes send her scrambling away from the couch; his have him up and on his feet. The space of a blink from then to now, and Dani’s on the floor with Nico looming over her. For a frozen instant, there’s not a breath between them. 

Now the moment breaks; Nico grabs instinctively for the frame of the sofa to support himself as he sways in the blood rush catching up to his brain. They’re both breathing heavily, and some part of her mind recognizes that he looks as terrified as she feels. Her heart is pounding in her ears. They stare at each other like strangers. 

“Shit,” he growls, covering his eyes with a hand. When he drops it a second later, the intensity in his look is almost too much for her to handle. “Did I hurt you?” he demands urgently. She’s suddenly his only focus. She can’t make her voice work. But she manages a small shake of her head.

He swallows hard, his eyes sweeping the mess of the room. Abruptly he turns, staggering to the bathroom. The door closes solidly behind him, and the sound of muffled retching drifts her way. Dani doesn’t move. Can’t move. The frightened adrenaline pricks tears behind her eyes.

Slowly she comes back to herself, forcing calming breaths between huge gulps of air. She can hear water running in the bathroom now. Her hip throbs in time with her pulse; her arm feels bruised. Her hands are shaking as she begins to gather up the pieces of the broken mug. There’s coffee everywhere, dripping off the table, pooling in the carpet fibers beneath her bare knees. She needs to get up and get a towel from the kitchen. She doesn’t think her legs will hold her just yet.

When the door opens, she doesn’t look up. His black trouser legs come around the couch and into the edge of her vision. For a moment he just stands there; somehow she can still hear his breathing over the deafening volume of her own. Slowly Nico eases down onto his knees in front of her, and she can’t honestly deny the flicker of animal panic that reflexively flares. 

Can’t deny it… but she can certainly try to defy it. Dani makes herself lift her eyes up to his face.

He’s too pale, the dark smudges beneath his eyes echoing the deepening bruise on his jaw. Long strands of hair hang loose over his forehead. “Are you sure I didn’t hurt you?” It’s spoken more softly this time. In all the signals her brain is sending, it occurs that she’s never before seen Nico in need of reassurance. He may be able to still his expression, but there’s no hiding for his eyes.

Eyes which drop away from hers once her lips shape the word no. They fall to her arm, as if he can see through the fabric of her sleeve to the skin. “I didn’t… Dani, I wouldn’t…“ The words trail off inadequately in the coffee scented silence. Instead Nico reaches out for the ceramic silvers collected in her hand. “Let me –“

They’re both surprised when she flinches. 

Nico recovers first, getting to his feet with a nod. “I’ll go.”

A part of her simply wants to go back to bed, to pretend this morning never started. But Dani knows she can’t leave it like this, can’t let this scene end on such a bitter-tasting note. “Nico.” It stops him half way through struggling into his coat; she sees a flash of red seeping through the white bandage at his side. The pause is only momentary, however, and he’s slipping the material over his bare shoulders with a grimace while Dani’s still searching for the words she wants. 

“I’m sorry,” she starts, and a scowl darts in and out of his stoic mask. “I just need a little space right now. Can we talk later?”

Another nod, his face set in stone. “Of course.” His eyes are focused somewhere in her hairline. His tone unbearably professional now. “Doctor Santino,” he says, a distancing goodbye. “Thank you for your assistance.” There’s a twelve foot wall between them, and she doesn’t have the strength right now to tunnel through. 

He’s limping a little as he moves toward the door. 

Dani’s fingers are bleeding where tiny fragments of ceramic have sliced their way into her skin.

**

“I was just so _mad_ , ya know? I dunno, we were yellin and suddenly Nico’s showin up from outta nowhere and the gun’s in my hand and it just went off, ya know? And Nico’s sayin ‘Don’t worry, I got this’ and next thing I know he’s talkin to the cops and makin things go away. Like my man Nico does, right? Cool as hell. Takes my piece and says he’s gonna drive Darius home. Tells me I gotta come talk to you if I know what’s good for me. So here I am, right Doc? You tell him I came to see you?”

Ronnie’s looking around her office like he’s expecting Nico to jump out of the corner at any moment. It would be funny if she wasn’t so tired, if the smell of spilt coffee didn’t still permeate her living room. If she’d actually seen Nico at the meeting, if this morning had never happened. But Dani’s got the memory of frightened eyes she never expected to see. Of a glimpse of a man behind that “cool as hell” veneer.

“I’ll tell him,” she says, a small smile forced onto her lips. “But right now I want to talk about why you had a gun in the first place.”

Ronnie wriggles on her couch, looking everywhere but at her. “I dunno, Doc,” he says with a laughing shrug. “Protection, right? Everybody’s got a gun.”

“What do you think you need protecting from?”

“Gotta look out for myself,” is all he’ll give her, and she decides to try another track. 

“Uh-huh… then why don’t you tell me what it was you and your brother were fighting about?”

Now the carpet holds all of his attention. “It was stupid.”

Dani waits for more, the morning sun silently filling the room with light. She’d had to go with long sleeves today, to hide the disturbingly finger-shaped bruises that wrapped her arm just above the wrist. Though they have nothing on the dark purple shade deepening on her hip bone. The thought of it is enough to resurrect the ache. She shifts slightly in her chair.

When it becomes plain that Jackson wants to go no further, Dani releases a slow breath and tries anew. “Ronnie.” She pauses until he finally looks up. Smiles. “You’re not in trouble here. I just want to find out what’s going on with you. See if there’s any way I can help. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay. So tell me again what happened last night. Slower this time, with detail.”

The fidgeting has settled down a little, and Dani supposes that’s something. “Not all that much to tell, Doc. Darius and me had been out drinking, and there was this girl… Only it wasn’t just about the girl, you know? I dunno. Anyway, we got back to my place late, and we were going at it, saying all sorts of shi- - sorry, Doc – _stuff_ and the gun was in my hand. And, I dunno, Nico must’ve seen us at the club and followed us like some ninja shit, cuz suddenly there he was, at my place, stepping ‘tween me and Darius.”

“And then the gun went off.” She’s impressed at how neutrally she says this, despite it being backed up by the memory of so much blood.

“Yeah. It happened real fast. Loud as hell, too. For a second I even thought I hit Nico or something, the way we all fell back, but I guess not cuz next thing I know the police are banging down the front door and he’s going to handle things. That cat’s got nine lives,” he says, shaking his head in appreciation.

She wants to tell him what actually happened, to show him the risks Nico’s taking for the team and to shatter his illusions about superheroes. But the information is Nico’s to control. Instead Dani says only, “All actions have consequences, Ronnie. Even if we don’t always see them right away.”

They talk for a half hour more - dancing around too many topics for Dani’s liking - but she doesn’t want to scare him away, so she lets him keep things light. Besides, to be fair, her own focus very much wants to wander. Now is not the time to delve, not when she can’t promise him her full attention. They make an appointment to meet later in the week, and she tries to tell herself she’s made a decent start as she closes the glass door behind him.

She goes into the kitchen to make herself a sandwich, thinking back to the meeting earlier. She hadn’t needed to participate much, thank god, other than fielding a couple of vague questions about TK. With Nico not present, she hadn’t been sure whether or not to bring up what happened last night; in the end, she’d decided to wait until she’d had a chance to talk with Jackson, see what he had to say. She’d bit her tongue and sat quietly, and the spotlight of the meeting had moved past. She spent the rest of the time reminding herself that she should be listening, reminding herself that not to space out. Trying not to worry about why Nico wasn’t there.

A mental feat not helped at all by Matt stopping her in the hallway on the way out to ask if she knew where he was. She didn’t know and she’d told him so, but she’d sounded a little flustered to her own ears in her effort to give nothing away. Defensive? Had she imagined that Matt had looked at her oddly? Probably. She promised she’d tell Nico to call should she get in touch with him first.

Little does Matt know that she’s apparently now the _last_ person Nico wants to get in touch with. Sandwich in one hand, Dani runs her thumb over the phone in her other. She’s already sent him a text today, after the run-in with Matt, but there’s been no response. She wonders if he’s sleeping. 

Now comes a clear image behind her eyes of him in the grip of a nightmare, and she wonders how often he ever sleeps.

It’s only been a few hours, but she sends him another message. Short, reasonably concerned, and sent before it can be overthought. Even if she has to annoy him into responding, at least she’ll get a response.

The rest of the day passes with syrupy slowness, crawling along with no further plans or commitments. Dani empties the dishwasher, makes another attempt to lighten the coffee stain on the carpet. Shifts the couch slightly. Texts him again. Takes a nap. She’s a third of the way through a novel she’s never had time to read when she hears Ray’s car out front and the kids coming up the path. It’s past seven now. And still no word from Nico.

The kids have already eaten, and they’re quick to escape to the teenage solitude of their rooms. She feels like she mostly just sees the backs of their heads these days. Dani sits back down and picks up her book, wondering when exactly _that_ started to happen.

The text startles her when it finally comes, the chirp of the alert cutting suddenly through the room’s silence. The pages of the paperback rustle under the flutter of her hands. Dani grabs for her phone, a glance at the lock screen telling her it’s gotten late. 

_Sorry for not getting back to you earlier. Everything’s fine. We’ll talk Monday._

Monday.

She’s on her feet now, frustration spurring her to move without a destination. _Everything’s fine._ Her hand rubs unconsciously at the bruise on her hip, the muscles underneath stiffened and spitting after she’s sat reading for so long. She supposes she shouldn’t be so surprised, should have known his most likely response would be to avoid her. She curses herself for scaring him off - not for her own reactions, but that she’d been unable to hide them better. If she’d had more control, maybe she could have gotten him to talk to her when his guard was down.

Pointless to debate it now - the moment having passed - but her thoughts circle around the theme, having no interest in venturing anywhere else. Eventually Dani sits and picks up the book again, but the words stubbornly remain words, individual sounds that her brain pronounces without picture or meaning. She’s read the same sentence four times now, and she has no idea what it says. This is stupid. She decides to go to bed.

It’s a random impulse that has her checking out the front window as she’s going to lock the door, but it gives her a glimpse of Nico’s car parked in front of her house. She pulls the front door open just as he starts the engine, but the motion attracts his attention. He looks away quickly when he sees her, and for a moment she thinks he’s going to drive off anyway. Finally he turns the car off, and she closes the door behind her. 

Crossing the dark yard toward the hush of the street, she decides she doesn’t like this new nightly ritual. 

And this time her slippers are getting wet.

Nico’s studying the stitching on his steering wheel when Dani opens the door and settles herself into the passenger seat. It’s warm in here, pleasantly so. But the interior smells faintly of cleaning chemicals, harsh notes lingering despite any efforts to dispel them. Not necessarily unpleasant so much as unnatural, but present. Persistent. It takes her tired brain a full minute before it occurs to her that he’d been in the car when she’d found him, that he’d been bleeding all that time. Of course he’d had to have the car cleaned. She wonders if the dim lighting is hiding any stubborn stains.

The thought shivers down her back, and his eyes dart sideways to look at her. “It’s not Monday,” he says.

“No. I decided to bump up our appointment.” The lines around his eyes tighten at this, almost a cringe. Dani’s not sure why, but she keeps her voice light as she continues, “You’re here, I’m here. What’s wrong with talking now?”

He shakes his head, his eyes shifting to the windshield, to the empty street. “It’s late. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Had he come to talk, only to change his mind? How long was he sitting out here before he sent that text? Irritation swells for a moment, and she hears herself say, “Sure, Nico. Everything’s _fine_.” 

A muscle in his jaw twitches, and she can feel the ground crumbling under her feet. This isn’t how she wants this to go. Dani sighs, suddenly exhausted. “Sorry, I –“

“You’re limping,” he cuts her off. She falls back into a surprised silence – she didn’t realize he’d been watching her cross the lawn, didn’t realize that her discomfort was noticeable. Her mouth opens, closes, as she tries to work out what to say. His hand flexes tightly around the wheel, his voice low. “What else?” It’s far too close to a demand.

“Nico…”

He swings around to face her. “What. Else.” Now it’s a demand, without any hint of a question. The interior of the car feels much to close. Dani tells herself that the anger and frustration radiating off him aren’t directed at her. She forces her body to stop trying to melt into the closed door at her back.

“Nothing else. And it’s only a bruise. It’ll fade.”

“That’s not the point,” he says, dropping both his voice and his eyes. The intense emotions are fizzling into something quieter, but there’s still an inescapable weight in the car. “And I don’t believe you.”

She realizes he’s looking at her arm, his hand darting out to grab it a half-second before she knows he’s going to. But his grip is surprisingly gentle as he cradles it between them, slipping back her sleeve before she can protest to expose the ugly marks on her wrist to the sliver of light the streetlamp peeks over the front seats. Nico sucks in a breath, fingertips whispering over the mottled skin. 

“Christ.” It’s barely an exhale. He lets go of her arm, turning as far as he can from her in their small shared space. 

Dani pulls her sleeve back down. She watches him. Waits.

“Again, only a bruise,” she says, after several moments of silence have slipped by.

“Again, not the point,” he growls, his eyes still on the vacant nighttime street.

“So tell me,” she says, “what the point is.”

He’s grinding his teeth together in his jaw; there are tired lines around his eyes that she doesn’t remember seeing before. By the time he finally answers, she’s given up any expectation that he’s going to. “I hurt you,” he says, the words barely loud enough to make it the short distance between them. “It’s my job to protect you, and I hurt you.”

“Not intentionally,” she’s quick to point out, but this does nothing to appease him.

“Doesn’t matter.” It’s firm. Convinced.

“Yes,” she says, just as firm. “It does.”

Nico shakes his head, his focus on the car that drives slowly by them. He follows it with his eyes; she might as well not even be here. When it’s clear that he’s volunteering nothing more, Dani sees that she’s going to have to be the one to drag things forward. “I startled you, you reacted instinctively. How is that your fault?”

His hand curls into a fist on the seat beside him. He won’t look at her. “It is.”

“Nico, you were exhausted and I’m guessing in a considerable amount of pain. You can’t blame yourself for not being in contr-“

“Yes. I can.”

Dani sighs, wishing they were having this conversation somewhere else. Preferably somewhere where she’d have a better chance of seeing something other than only the side of his face. “Okay, yes, clearly you can. But you shouldn’t. _I_ don’t. You had a normal human reaction,” she says, thinking of her own frightened flinch away and the wall it slammed down between them. When he still says nothing, she reaches out to rest her fingers on his tight fist. “Do you remember what the dream was about?”

It’s the wrong move; he pulls his hand away from her, his voice almost a hiss. “You’re not my therapist,” he warns.

It strikes a nerve in her own muddled thoughts. “And I don’t want to be,” she retorts, pulling her own hand back. Dani makes herself take a breath, trying to find a way to salvage this. They’re both on edge, and she needs to walk softly. She lowers her voice, tries again. “Though I’d be happy to give you some names if you want them.” Nothing. He’s pulled his right arm in close to his side, back to pretending to study the neighborhood through the windshield. He’s the definition of tense, and looking as if maybe he thinks she’ll simply go away if he ignores her for long enough. “But I do want to be your _friend_ , Nico. Friends talk to each other. Talk to me.”

His left hand comes up to rub at his forehead; his eyes close for a beat, two. “Just a dream,” he finally says.

As if she’s going to believe that. A tiny voice cautions that maybe she shouldn’t push, but still she finds herself asking softly, “Are they always that bad?”

His right arm is still protectively immobile, and she hears the fabric of his shirt shift against the seat more than sees the actual movement when he shrugs his other shoulder. “Sometimes.”

She thinks that’s all there’s going to be; she slides her own attention to the wide window in front of them. Dani scrabbles through her thoughts to find some thread here to follow.

“They get worse with stress, when I’m really tired,” he admits to the darkness, and she senses this is not an easy thing for him to acknowledge aloud. She wonders if this might also have been part of the reason he hadn’t wanted to stay. Dani nods, not looking over at him, giving him time to see if there’s more. “I don’t sleep a lot,” he eventually says.

“You have a lot of people depending on you.”

Another one shoulder shrug. His voice is drained, flat. “That’s the job.”

“And we’re all grateful to you for doing it so well.” There’s a noise of derision from the seat beside her. The dampness on the soles of her slippers is soaking through to her feet; her toes are cold against the soft synthetic fur. “Ronnie thinks you might be a ninja,” she tells him, mostly to try and lighten the mood. 

“Hardly.” He looks over at her now, his expression weary. “What did you tell him?”

Now it’s Dani’s turn to shrug. “Only that actions often have unseen consequences. He knows he made a major mistake just having that gun in the first place – it’s up to you if you want him to know how bad. But I think it scared him enough that he won’t be making the same mistake again.” She yawns, says, “We have another appointment scheduled for later in the week.”

“I’m keeping you awake again,” Nico says, and she only notices that some of the tension has gone when she feels it come trickling back.

“Good thing I’m old enough to stay up past my bedtime,” she responds.

They sit there for a while, the soft sounds of the suburban night drifting in through his cracked window. Dani shifts in her seat, trying not to wince when the bruise at her hip brushes against the door handle. She wonders what time it is. Wonders if her children are still up. She can’t tell if their lights are on from this side of the house.

“How’d the meeting go?” he asks, his words floating through the dark.

“Nothing particularly interesting,” she says, figuring he’ll find out anything he decides he needs to know. “Matt asked where you were – you’re supposed to call him. I think he missed you.”

“I could tell. He sent me more messages than you.”

“He seemed to think I’d know where you were,” she tells him, and she swears she can she him deliberately filing this information away for later. “I didn’t mention what happened. It’s your decision if you want to.” 

He doesn’t comment, and she senses that’s the end of it. He refused to bring in the police in order to protect the team; she suspects he won’t tell the team either. Maybe in order to protect himself. His image. His ability to do his job, the way he intends to do it.

She knows this is more than she can hope to resolve tonight.

Another car passes, and she squints into the headlights as they briefly play across her face. She yawns again, unable to quash it as it sneaks up on her. Nico looks at her, his dark eyes shadowed in the white of his face. He doesn’t say anything, just looks at her as if searching for his words. She tries not to squirm in this new silence, forcing herself to be still and wait to see if he’ll speak. 

“You’re certain it’s nothing serious? Nothing broken?” he asks, and somehow she gets the impression that it both is and isn’t what he wants to say. 

“Nico. I’m okay. Really.”

He frowns, and his eyes fall away. But he nods. 

His Blackberry vibrates jarringly in the tray between their seats, and Dani can’t help but notice that he reaches awkwardly around with his left hand to pick it up. She’s about to say something, to point out that she’s not the one to be worried about here. But he scowls at the screen, and before he even speaks she can tell that there’s somewhere else he now needs to be.

“Dammit,” he says, dropping the phone and dragging his hand through his hair. “I have to go take care of something.” For just a moment, he sounds so unbearably tired. She wants to tell him not to go. She knows he won’t listen.

“Serious?” she asks instead. 

“Don’t think so. At least not yet. Which is why I need to be there.”

“Okay,” she says simply, opening the car door. “Let me know if you need me.” 

She hopes he can hear all the layers in her offer, hopes he understands that she doesn’t mean just for the team. A breeze tickles the ends of her hair as she slips out of the car.

“Dani.” It stops her as she’s turning away, keeps her from swinging the heavy door closed. She stoops slightly to be able to see his face, balancing herself with a hand on the top of the car. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I never meant to...” He swallows, tries again. “I won’t ever hurt you again.”

The smile she gives him feels a little sad, but genuine. “People can’t promise each other that, Nico. All we can do is our best for one another. I know you’d never hurt me intentionally. That’s good enough for me.”

She can’t say for sure if it’s good enough for him. But it’s something that they can work on. For now, Dani can only hope that she’s helped. “Take care of yourself,” she tells him, wishing him a quiet good night as she straightens and closes the door.

He waits until she’s safely back in her house before he starts the car and drives away. 

 

 

 

end.


End file.
